


Catharsis- Clean Slate Protocol

by SociallyIneptDork



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Childhood Trauma, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Clint Barton, Kid Fic, Kid Tony Stark, Liberties Taken With Norse Mythology, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, M/M, Moving On, Parent Bucky Barnes, Parent Loki (Marvel), Parent Steve Rogers, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Team as Family, Thanos cannot hurt us here, Toddlers, because I can do that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-26 03:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SociallyIneptDork/pseuds/SociallyIneptDork
Summary: "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."- Martin Luther King, Jr.When Tony and Clint are turned back into children who don't remember much of their adult lives, it's up to the team to take care of two abused and neglected little boys who need to be loved. There are good days and bad days, but most days are somewhere in between. These are slices of life for the Avengers caring for two of their members as children.Takes place 2 years after Civil War and Thor: Ragnarok.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No explanation for the de-aging will be given in this chapter, or likely in the next. For now I plan on writing small slices of life for the Avengers caring for two of their members as children. For this chapter, it's Bucky and Steve. 
> 
> This is about 33 months after Civil War and 27 months after Thor Ragnarok.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No explanation for the de-aging will be given in this chapter, or likely in the next. For now I plan on writing small slices of life for the Avengers caring for two of their members as children. For this chapter, it's Bucky and Steve. 
> 
> This is about 33 months after Civil War and 27 months after Thor Ragnarok.

Clint was sitting on his bed when Steve entered, still fiddling with the tablet that Fury had given him to help him out more. Apparently a 3 year old Clint was not able to hear nor speak in anything other than sign language. Which, unfortunately, nobody but Natasha and Bucky knew, so they'd gotten him a tablet and bracelet (which was linked to FRIDAY) to help him communicate better. It was a simple dual-interface format- it could work as a simple AAC or it could work as something far more advanced than what was on the market at the moment.

Either he clicks on the words with pictures to form sentences and the device speaks it out loud for whoever was listening or he could sign and the signs are turned into speech from speakers on the bracelet. For him to understand what was being said to him though, it also had a speech to text function hooked up to FRIDAY which allowed him to easily know what others were saying by holograms which followed him around and only he could see due to chips implanted in his arm.

Basically, he had the reins on how he wanted to communicate with everyone else. And it was a pretty badass device that Tony Stark had designed a long time ago, but hadn't created yet. So Fury had some of Stark's interns work on it for Clint, and _voila_.

Steve had listened to Coulson rambling on and on about the features of it like he was in a commercial. He politely nodded even though he got lost by the time Phil said the tablet took some elements from "picture exchange communication system" and had an "IP70 classification", which was probably only thirty seconds in out of the twenty minutes he spent explaining each part and feature.

Clint looked up at him, smiling. He pressed a button. "Hello," he said and Steve smiled at him, ruffling his dirty blond hair.

"Hey, kiddo, time for bed. You brushed your teeth and used the bathroom?"

Clint nodded with a smile, saying "yes". The device was a lifesaver at the moment, becoming a bit of a bridge between him and the rest of the world.

When Steve had first seen him, he saw the Clint he always knew- mischievous, playful, but definitely more innocent and slightly nervous around him in the way that only a wounded child could be. He was fidgety and didn't like getting too close with Steve or anyone else, but as the days wore on he quickly grew to trust and adore Steve and the others. He was affectionate and clingy from time to time, but he'd quickly wormed his way into Steve's heart being the way he was. His big brown eyes could melt a heart made of vibranium.

Clint yawned and Steve quickly tucked him in and clicked the nightlight on as usual. It made Clint feel safer to be able to see if someone was in the room, and had helped Steve and Bucky convince him that he would be okay sleeping on his own and that nobody would come and take him back to an orphanage. It was heartbreaking the first week or so, because Steve struggled to deal with the fact that a child could hold so much pain in their heart. "Goodnight, champ. You know where to find me if you need me."

The hall was silent when he left the room. With a sinking heart he passed Tony's room and entered his own room. Bucky was reading when he got there, looking up when Steve entered and sat down. "I put Clint down for bed." That was all he had to say and Bucky stood immediately and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"He'll warm up to you at some point, Steve, don't worry about it too much."

Steve huffed, scowling at his hands. "He's terrified of me, Buck."

"Yeah well, you only came here three weeks ago," Bucky reminded.

Steve had been away on a mission when Tony and Clint had been cursed, so Fury sent in the next best thing: Natasha, Thor and Bucky. They were the only options available, after all. Sam was off with Steve, Bruce was not willing at all to take care of two toddlers full-time-

"You want _me_ in charge of two helpless kids? Are you crazy? They're literally at their weakest right now, one push and they fall and start crying like they've been stabbed. You want the hulk to babysit two kids? That's honestly such a bad idea, I've never heard anything stupider," were his exact words, and when pressed further, his language became decidedly less child-friendly)-

and Phil was a busy man. So, they were sent in to deal with the fact that two of their finest were turned into helpless amnesiac kids. Right now, it was just Steve and Bucky to care for them while Thor searched for his wayward little brother to help in reversing the curse (which, miraculously, he hadn't been the one to cause) and Natasha searched for that Strange fellow.

"Three _weeks_. He doesn't even want to be in the same room as me! I mean- I was his team mate for years! He was my brother in arms! And he doesn't even want to walk on the same ground as me."

Bucky placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, wishing he could ease away the pain in Steve's eyes. "I know," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve's head. "I'm sorry." It wasn't fair, Bucky knew that, that Tony had somehow found him more bearable to be around than Steve. Not to mention the fact that Howard raised him on the idea that Steve was a perfect man who was worth a million of Tony, and he'd somehow caused enough hurt to make Tony call for Bucky when he was alone with Steve because _Captain America was scary_.

Steve didn't think it was fair that even before he could even introduce himself, Howard had already ruined the chance of a good relationship between the two of them. They were doomed from the very beginning.

But Bucky was further back in Tony's mind, and he wasn't the one that Howard used to humiliate and hurt Tony. He wasn't the one whose name was brought up anytime Tony was being made to feel like he was less than enough. Bucky could just be a kind stranger for all Tony knew. 

"I'll go and check on him, then, yeah?" Bucky said as he stood and left Steve to mope about on the bed.

Tony's bedroom was mostly neat and the toys looked hardly touched. Tony usually just spent his time with the building blocks making boats and cars and airplanes which were amazing to Bucky, who could only make a tower. "Hey, doll, you ready for bed?" he asked from the door, and Tony looked up at him, nodding. "Alright, well, let's put these away for now and get into bed then."

Tony did as he was asked quietly and quickly, putting his toys in the chest and getting into bed without complaint. He looked at Bucky strangely, his eyebrows furrowed, a frown playing on his lips. "What's wrong, Tones?" Bucky asked, feeling a bit uneasy at the way Tony looked at him. It looked like the way adult Tony had gazed at him before.

"I dreamed about snow. You were there," Tony said, but the confusion on his face was painful to look at, because even as he said it Bucky already knew he was struggling to keep a grasp on his memory of the dream.

"Last night?"

"Last night," Tony confirmed with a nod of his head, fingers fiddling with the hem of his sweater. 

"Do you remember anything else from your dream?" Bucky asked, having a fist tightening around his insides at the idea that a child this young might remember a day so tragic. The only time that Bucky had been around Tony in a snowy terrain was that day two years ago that he'd been trying not to think about for the last two months.

"I don't know, but… I saw your face. And I feeled the cold."

Bucky nodded as if he didn't know what Tony was talking about. "Maybe you'll remember more tonight." _God please don't._

"Can you… stay?" Tony said when Bucky was getting ready to leave. Bucky turned back to meet his large brown eyes, still unguarded and not nearly as devoid of light. He was only around 2 (and a half, Tony would hurry to add) years old and hadn't had enough time to hate himself like he used to.

Some days he'd wake up and call for Jarvis or his mom if he had a nightmare before he remembered that they were both gone.

(Howard's name only passed through Tony's lips if he was in the throes of a nightmare, but Bucky didn't want to dwell on that. He didn't want to poke at old wounds and watch Tony bleed and crumble right before him.)

Some days all he did was cry because he was so horribly _confused_. Clint was the same way as well, and Bucky saw the confusion flickering in his eyes from time to time when he looked around the room, as if he knew something was wrong but didn't know _what_  was wrong. As if they could feel the past pulling at them the same way that Bucky sometimes woke up and still expected to be back in the war or in the 40's. So if anyone could understand what they felt it would, in theory, be him and Steve.

"Sure thing, sweetheart. I'll stay as long as you need," he said, smiling at Tony and sitting down on the bed, not saying anything when Tony curled up against him. A few months ago he would've thought this was an impossible dream, but here they were. They'd come far, him and Tony. Tony had gone from hiding in the closet or under the bed any time that he entered the room to actually letting Bucky hug him. That was a big step.

So he let Tony stay in his arms, singing a lullaby in his mother tongue until Tony fell asleep. He stayed a bit longer until he was sure he wouldn't wake him up before he moved away and went back to his room with Steve. Steve was sketching something out when Bucky sat down beside him. They didn't talk. After a long time of Bucky staring at the ceiling, Steve clicked off the lights, drenching them both in darkness. Neither of them said anything as Steve turned over and stared at Bucky in the darkness.

"He said he dreamt about snow," Bucky said to the shadows, and for a long time it's quiet enough that he wondered if Steve had fallen asleep and only the night had heard him. But Steve moved after a while, running fingers through Bucky's hair in silence.

"Snow?" he repeated, voice soft.

Bucky hummed in response. "He said he dreamt about snow. And that I was there."

He already knows that Steve can understand what he's saying without it needing to be spelled out. He knows they're both thinking of the same night, the night which had haunted them for months- though if he were honest, it was actually almost two years- now, the night which made Steve spend hours staring out of the window while Bucky comforted a crying toddler who'd had a nightmare.

(Before Tony and Clint had become toddlers though, Bucky had also spent nights sitting beside Tony as he tinkered in the lab after a nightmare or when he didn't want to sleep, giving him the company he needed even if neither of them spoke. When he joined Steve again in their room, Steve didn't meet his eyes.)

Tony might not remember the events that the press had dubbed the 'Civil War' anymore, but god, Steve certainly did. He made that clear on multiple occasions. 

"You think he'll remember more?" Bucky ventured to ask when he realized Steve wasn't going to answer.

"No. I don't think he would."

"He has dreams of some memories though. That hasn't stopped nor eased up any," Bucky reminded him.

Steve's fingers move from Bucky's hair to his metal arm that Tony made himself, feeling the ridges underneath his fingertips. "Maybe. I don't know, Buck, I don't know what to do anymore," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I just wish… he would be okay this time around. Howard really screwed up with him, so I wish that until we find a way to bring him back to the man he was, we can give him a better childhood."

"I think we can," Bucky responded, pulling Steve's hand to his lips and pressing kisses to each of his knuckles. "We both know you were born to become a mother hen. Eat this rabbit-food, do this, don't do that, go jogging at the asscrack of dawn o clock."

Steve scoffed. "As if you weren't always trying to be the knight in shining armor all those years back. You always loved to swoop in and save the day."

"What can I say? You were a damsel in distress with only half the brains needed to know when to back down," Bucky said with a chuckle. He wrapped an arm around Steve. "And yeah, it's true, I do like taking care of other people. After so long of… Anyways, this might be good for all of us. Goodnight."

"Night."

Clint woke up in the middle of night as he usually did, and luckily FRIDAY was programmed to alert them that he was awake and distressed. Bucky groaned as he woke up and nudged Steve with his elbow. "Wake up, punk, your kid's fussin'." He rolled over, hugging his pillow to him.

"You go, I went last night," Steve responded, placing a hand over his eyes in exhaustion.

Bucky threw a pillow at him. "Nah."

"Buuuuuck," he persisted, but Bucky was as immovable as a boulder, already halfway to dreamland. With a loud, over-dramatic whine he got up and padded to Clint's room. Clint had a bit of night-time trouble where he would sometimes wake up from a nightmare or just wake up at all and begin crying because he was alone and afraid. He didn't like the dark and the stillness made him uneasy.

Clint was hugging a pillow as he laid in bed, curled up in his bed, but luckily not crying. "Hey, Clint, it's 2 am. Why're you up?" he asked as he sat on the edge of Clint's bed. Clint shrugged, moving to sit on Steve's lap. "You've still got a few hours to sleep, buddy. Why don't you lay down, hm?"

"No. Nightmare," Clint signed tiredly. "I wanna go with you."

Steve shook his head, "I'm sorry, baby, but you know we can't do that. You've got your own room and big boys sleep in their own beds."

Clint shook his head. "With you," he repeated.

"Honey," Steve started again, but Clint let out a low whine which obviously would be the precursor to a loud and long wailing session, effectively ending any argument Steve already had formed. It was 2 am. Steve was ready to drop like a stone. One night wouldn't hurt.

He picked Clint up and grabbed his tablet and carried him over to his and Buck's room. Bucky just barely shifted when Steve got back with Clint; the bed was big, thank god. They could all fall asleep and not know that there was anyone else on the bed. Tony was thoughtful like that, always giving them the needed supplies they didn't even know they needed, even if they sometimes didn't appreciate it at the time it was given. Steve hadn't shown his gratitude for Tony's kindness and hospitality enough. He'd need to change that if Tony became an adult again.

_When_.

When Tony became an adult again. Because Tony had to become an adult again, surely. It was impossible for Tony not to become an adult and would have to grow up all over again. Hopefully.

But would it really be quite that bad?

He hummed a song until Clint fell asleep snuggled up beside him, and he himself fell asleep running his fingers through Clint's hair. When FRIDAY flashed back to life, it was Bucky who stood and comforted a crying Tony, bouncing him on his hip for what felt like forever until he quieted enough to be able to say that he'd had a nightmare.

"Come on, tell Papa what happened in the dream. You're safe with me, I promise," Bucky said as soothingly as he knew how, and Tony's eyes filled with tears again.

Tony trembled against him, holding onto Bucky's shirt with his tiny fists. "I was drowneding. There was shouting men. And they gave me a flashlight," he said, pressing a hand to the arc reactor that he'd woken up with when he became a child. Bruce assured Bucky that there was no shrapnel anymore, that it was there but no longer needed for Tony to live, and it was probably just because fate had an odd sense of humor. Or perhaps, the sorcerer had an odd sense of humor.

If it showed on Bucky's face that he was the tiniest bit glad that the nightmare wasn't about him and Steve slamming a shield against Tony's chest and beating him down and abandoning him to die, Tony didn't notice it. "That sounds like a horrible dream, sunshine, no wonder you're upset. I'd be scared too if I had that dream, but you're safe now, and I promise you that I won't let anyone do anything like that to you if I could stop it."

"Promise?"

Bucky nodded. "Of course. I promise."

He continued pacing just a while longer until Tony was slumped against his chest. He walked over to Tony's bed, but Tony shook his head. "I wanna go with you." He paused for a second before shrugging and carrying Tony to his and Steve's room, letting him settle in the middle of the bed.

"G'night, kid."

"Night, Papa."

\--

When morning came, the bed looked like a hurricane had gone through it. Clint and Tony were, apparently, the type of sleepers who moved constantly. Steve woke up to find that sometime during the night Tony had wrapped around his arm and Clint was sprawled spread-eagle in the middle of the bed. Beside him, Tony looked innocent and carefree, soft and vulnerable in a way that Steve hadn't seen before, a tangible fragility surrounding him. His eyes were closed in slumber and Steve couldn't help but worry about Tony waking up and realizing he was hugging the wrong person.

Steve didn't dare to move a muscle.

On the other side of the bed, Bucky began to shift in his sleep. One side-effect of the serum was that they didn't need as much sleep as they did before, so Steve often woke up around 6 am, even if he'd fallen asleep late in the night. Bucky, as much as he complained about being woken up when Steve would get up, was much the same way and would automatically wake up when the sun came out.

"You up, Buck?" Steve asked, keeping his voice soft for the two kids. Well, one kid, because Clint would sleep through a bomb explosion.

Bucky let out a noncommittal grunt, running a hand through his face before turning to look over at Clint and Tony. "Aw, look at you two," he said with a smile on his face before he pulled out his phone. "Smile." Steve gave him an amused smile, shutting his eyes when the flash hit him. Blinking away the spots in his vision, he settled down, listening to the pattering of rain against the window and the wind blowing against the glass. He let his eyes close, knowing that there was no chance he'd be able to go for a run today.

He laid there for what felt like forever until his mind was starting to cloud until he felt something pressing against his chest. He opened his eyes to look into Tony's large brown eyes, giving him a small, sympathetic smile as he waited for the inevitable flinch away from him. Tony stared at him sleepily, before he he simply let his head drop again and rested against Steve's chest. After a stretch of quiet, Steve dared to brush his fingers through Tony's hair, grateful for the fact that Tony only nuzzled closer to him. Another flash of light blinded him from his right, and he looked over to see Bucky with his phone out, Clint looking at the two of them with a grin.

"Alright, looks like we're all up now. Who says we should get pancakes?" Steve asked, and Bucky raised his hand, gesturing for Clint to do the same. Tony raised his hand last. "Well, that's settled. Tony gets to pick the flavor today- chocolate, strawberry or original?"

Tony thought on the matter for a few seconds before speaking, "Original."

Steve nodded, standing and taking Tony with him. Clint walked with Bucky, holding his metal hand in his right hand and his tablet in his left. Although Bucky never said anything about it, Steve knew how much this all meant to him. After so long of being a weapon used for destruction, being able to care for others for a change was something that really reminded him that he wasn't a weapon, wasn't something beyond saving like some claimed.

"Alright Tony, you and Clint stay here in the living room and play while I go and make pancakes," Steve said, setting Tony down onto the floor. Tony frowned but didn't otherwise complain, toddling over to his blocks. Clint, on the other hand, immediately went for the electronic toy cars, pitting them against each other in a brilliant crash of blue and red. Bucky watched them, putting his feet on the coffee table as he pulled out his phone. The sound of the cars crashing against one another brought Tony out of his reverie, and he watched Clint for a few moments in curious silence.

BOOM! One of the cars hit the wall, and if there were real people inside the car, they were undoubtedly dead by now. Tony flinched but didn't stop watching in awe as Clint grabbed the car and started over again. As an afterthought he paused and looked at Tony. "You wanna play?"

Tony nodded after a few seconds, and he sat opposite Clint with the red car, grabbing the remote and smashing the cars together again. And again. And again.

Then a while later, just as Steve walked into the room to announce that the pancakes were done, one of the cars flew and hit Clint smackdab in the face. Silence filled the room for a second before Clint's face crumpled and he started wailing. Bucky reached for Clint but Steve was there first, scooping him up into his arms and shushing him. "Hey, buddy, you're alright. You're fine." He bounced Clint around as he paced and Tony looked on with tears shining in his eyes, though Steve was pretty sure those were from fear of being punished.

His eyes darted around, but Bucky opened his arms before Tony could choose to flee. Tony melted into his arms and Bucky closed his arms around him, knowing that in these moments Tony just needed to feel safe. "You're fine, sweetheart, it wasn't your fault. Getting hurt's a part of playing, alright? It wasn't your fault, kiddo."

"I'm sorry," Tony said, still tightly clinging to Bucky's shirt.

Bucky nodded. "I know."

They went on like that for a while longer, until Clint stopped screaming his lungs out and until Tony stopped shaking in Bucky's arms. Steve ran his fingers through Clint's hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead, "are you ready to have some breakfast now?" he asked, and Clint's eyes looked up as he nodded.

"Alrighty-roo, let's go and eat then," Bucky said, smiling as he carried Tony into the kitchen and lowered him into the high chair while Steve put Clint down on his booster chair. It was obvious that neither of the little ones particularly liked it, but seeing as the other day Clint had fallen off the table and cried for an hour, neither of them were particularly keen on arguing about not needing it.

They ate in relative quiet for a while, with Tony messily feeding himself and Clint trying to inhale the pancakes like a vacuum as Bucky and Steve talked about unimportant things like their recent assinments, the weirdest things that they experienced from the new technology, and the fact that Loki had somehow gone off the grid yet again. It was getting a bit weird how many times the old mischief god had given them the slip recently, but from what Thor told them he'd made a new friend on some planet called Sakaar and now spent most of his time there when he wasn't being a pain in the ass for everyone else. However, the new friend of Loki also wasn't against causing trouble himself, from what Bruce told them about the man who called himself the Grandmaster.

"Bruce said his real name is En Dwi Gast or something, and he's a million or so years old and he helped the Hulk talk in complete sentences somehow," Steve told Bucky who winced.

"I can't believe there are really people out there who are older than us. I mean, when I joined the army I never thought I'd live to become 30, let alone 100. It's weird, I can't even imagine what someone would feel like when they're a million years old. I feel like I'd lose all my empathy at that age and just live for the thrill of things."

"Well, you're not far off. Apparently the Grandmaster just does things for fun at this point. Things like putting contenders against one another and making them fight to the death like gladiators."

Bucky laughed, "I think that sounds like fun."

Tony put his fork down- his sign that he was done eating- and Steve bit back a sigh. Even as a kid, Tony didn't really eat a lot. He preferred to be on his own, to build and to write and play with teddy bears. If Steve and Bucky didn't know him, they'd be able to forget all about him, him being so quiet and low maintenance, after all. Clint was much of the opposite situation, loving to eat and snack and play with action figures loudly and go to the park and sing. He couldn't be left alone for more than 5 minutes or he'd be getting into all sorts of trouble. Being 3 years old did little to keep him from trying to get into the vents.

"Done eating, are we?" Steve asked, helping Tony from the table and wiping his hands and face with a wipe. He placed him in the living room with his toys while the rest of them finished up.

"But that Loki fella- did he really go through therapy like I did? Emotional rehabilitation and all that?" Bucky asked when Steve sat back down and Steve nodded. Having a god go through therapy seemed a bit… odd.

"Well, that's what they say but honestly nobody's sure if he's really there or it's some complex illusion. Either way, it turns out that most of the things he did when he came here weren't his choice. He was being controlled by someone else," Steve explained, watching Clint stare at the TV that was playing a Disney movie that Steve hadn't watched yet. "And he seems like he improved with therapy, just a bit. He doesn't angst around as much and being able to have someone listen to him seems to be improving his problems with mischief."

Bucky took another bite of the pancake. Being a super-soldier meant his appetite was almost always notched up to 11. When Clint finished eating, he cleared away the dishes while Steve helped Clint clean the syrup out of his hands and face and a tiny bit of his hair. How the syrup got into Clint's hair, Steve had no idea. He cleaned it out and led Clint to the living room so he could wash the dishes. Bucky gave him a smile before entering the living room, sitting down in front of the TV to watch whatever was on. Tony immediately walked over and sat on Bucky's knee, and Clint looked up at them before walking over and crossing his arms. There was a moment of tension as they eyed each other.

Tony frowned a bit, afraid that Clint would take his Papa away and he'd be left alone again, cold and scared.

The usual.

"Move," Clint said to Tony, and Tony just stared. He couldn't. He couldn't- he couldnthecouldnt _hecouldnt_. He couldn't be alone now, without Jarvis or Mama. If Papa left, then he would have nothing. He would die. Captain America already belonged to Clint, all Tony wanted was his Papa Bucky.

Clint stared right back at him. He remembered having an older brother called Barney, who would protect him and teach him everything he knew, but now Barney was gone and all he had were these adults who actually took care of him. He had his Papa who understood him when he needed things and he had Dada who always made him feel safe and loved.

Clint didn't want to be left behind in the shadows again; he didn't want to be unwanted again.

"No," Tony responded, clutching onto Papa's sleeve like a coward.

Clint threw a punch.

\--

Bucky should have seen it coming. They all should have seen it coming. But they didn't. And now Tony was on the ground with his forehead covered in blood and Clint locked himself into a goddamn closet because he was scared that they were going to get rid of him.

Or beat him.

"Fuck. Steve! Steve," he called, and Steve raced into the living room, still holding a plate and wearing an apron. "Clint and Tony- they had a spat," Bucky hurried to explain as Steve knelt beside him with Tony on the floor, flinching away from them. He was bleeding profusely, eyes blown wide with terror as he sat on the floor, tears building in his eyes.

Steve tried again. "Honey, I need to see-" but Tony didn't respond to his soft words or the way he was trying his damnedest to look as non-imposing as possible. Tony was too afraid by the people with big hands and big faces and big voices, so he turned on the spot and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. Before Bucky or Steve could grab him, he was gone. And they were left kneeling in the middle of the living room while Clint sobbed in a closet and Tony left a trail of blood on the floor because he was too afraid to let them help him.

They sat there for a second, trying to think of a strategy to this before Steve turned to Bucky. "I guess there goes our progress. FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Mr. Rogers?" FRIDAY's voice responded, haughty in a way that only an AI could be. She still hadn't forgiven him for what happened even though her creator had more than a year ago. It had been tough, transitioning back to the compound after 18 months of either being on the run with Bucky or too ashamed to live in the same space as Tony. His showers were almost always cold for the first few weeks and the TV always malfunctioned in the middle of movies.

"Where is Tony?"

FRIDAY was silent for a second, before showing them on the screen. Tony was hiding under a bed in one of the spare rooms, crying into his arms silently.

Bucky stood up, dusting off his knees. "Can you alert Dr Banner that we'll be needing him to come over for a cut that Tony sustained?"

"Dr Banner has been alerted," she told them, "is there anything else I can help you with, Mr Barnes?"

"No, thank you, that's all."

He helped Steve to his feet, clapping him on the back before he set out for the spare room while Steve went and looked in the one closet that Clint usually chose as a hide-out. "Hey, buddy," he said, hoping that Clint was okay in there. He knocked on the door and tried the doorknob- no such luck. He could hear Clint's crying on the other side though, so he knew he was there. Alone and afraid and crying his heart out to the point he'd likely make himself sick soon if he wasn't stopped. "Clint? Clint, I'm coming in, alright?"

When he received no answer, he looked up at the ceiling and hoped that FRIDAY would cooperate. "FRIDAY, open the closet, please."

"There appears to be an error, Mr Rogers, Young Mr Barton doesn't want me-" the AI began, and Steve dropped his head to the closet door.

"FRIDAY, please. Clint is in there and he's crying and I know you care about him. I want to make him feel better. Please, just open the closet."

FRIDAY didn't respond but the door clicked open anyway so Steve counted that as a win. "Thanks, FRI." Clint was curled up in the corner of the closet, his arms wrapped around his knees and he looked up the moment the door opened, eyes wide. Steve slowly reached out, keeping his movements deliberate and in sight of Clint, turning on the tablet so that he and Clint could talk. "Hey, buddy. You wanna come out of there or would you rather talk here for now?"

"Here," Clint responded, eyeing Steve warily.

Steve sat down, placing his hands on his knees. "Alright, do you want to tell me what happened?"

There was a moment of stillness before Clint began to answer. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I understand that. Thank you for apologizing, that means you know that what you did wasn't okay, but I'm asking you why you did that. If you tell me, we can talk about why you got angry and how we can avoid this happening in the future."

Clint shrugged.

"Clint-"

"Make everything something you can hit with," Clint repeated from memory. "And hit them until they stop. That's how you get people to stop. I wanted to get Tony to stop…" he was silent for a few seconds, trying to find the right word but he shook his head in frustration. "But Tony didn't fight. He just bleeded and stared at me."

"What did you want Tony to stop doing?" Steve asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Clint thought for a few seconds more before he looked down at his lap. "I wanted him to stop being the one everyone loved more."

"Honey, nobody loves him more than you. We all love you both equally, and both of you have your own quirks and personalities that make you appealing to others. You're brave and strong and funny- I wouldn't trade you for anyone else in the world," Steve assured, smiling at him. "We all love you. Even Tony loves you. And Tony is younger than you, and he's still learning things, so sometimes we have to spend a little more time with him because we have to teach him things you already know. We have to keep him safe."

Clint tensed up, before hesitantly meeting Steve's eyes. "You promise?"

Steve sighed, knowing that everything that Barney had taught Clint would need to be eased out of his fighter mindset. Living with an abusive dad and spending a while in an orphanage had given him the mindset that he needed to fight to survive. So far he'd been compliant and mostly agreeable but perhaps now he was getting comfortable enough to misbehave without being truly afraid of being beaten. "I promise with all my heart, Clint."

Clint nodded, his shoulders dropping as he visibly deflated. "Do you think that Tony can forgive me?"

"Of course he would. You're his brother now and that means that you two have to have each other's backs. However, I would appreciate it if you don't hit anybody while you're living under this roof. It's not very nice and most disputes can be settled by talking things out. You have words, Clint, use them. Don't forget that even though you're both kids, Tony is younger and not as strong yet as you. And he needs protecting, not punching."

Clint's eyes filled with tears again and Steve knew that he'd hit a nerve with his words and it was enough. Seeing Tony bleed like that was probably a lesson enough.

Clint clung onto him and Steve didn't let go. When they entered the living room Tony's eyes were still teary, Bruce murmuring reassurances as he rocked Tony back and forth. Tony looked untrusting and curled into himself further when Steve walked in with Clint, and at this point Steve couldn't tell if it was because of him or because Clint had punched him in the face and sent him to the ground.

"Oh, look, it's Clint and Dada," Bruce said, looking at Steve with a frown on his face. "Looks like they're both okay. Are you both okay?"

Steve looked at Clint and then back at Bruce. "Um, yeah, we're both okay, all things considered."

"Good. Steve, can I talk to you for a moment?" Steve nodded, setting Clint down and waiting for Bruce to be able to convince Tony that he wasn't leaving him. When they were out of earshot of the kids, Bruce let out a deep sigh. "How have you been faring? Any new developments with them?"

"Well, honestly?" Steve ran a hand through his hair, lost in thought. "I'm not sure. Some days they have vague nightmares about their lives but not quite. They remember maybe one or two details about it before it's gone. And some days they're like real kids, without a worry in the world. Well… Tony adores Bucky but he's iffy about me. Has been since I got here, but today he's been… allowing me to get in his space more. Clint, on the other hand, seems to have made himself comfortable here but he's still clingy and is still scared that he'll be displaced in the family. Tony has that fear as well."

Bruce crossed his arms. It was no secret that he was also someone who had an unhappy childhood with an abusive dad. It was no wonder he was so fiercely protective of children. He never wanted any child to endure what he had while growing up. "I see. That's the effects of having a troubled childhood, I suppose. But they might be young enough that you and Bucky and whoever else helping to raise them could possibly give them what they need. Have you heard of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs?"

Steve shook his head.

"It's a theory, a good one, but not a perfect one. It has flaws, of course, like- well, anyways, the point is that the Hierarchy of Needs is just that. A hierarchy of needs, which, if satisfied, lead to self-actualization and self-fulfillment. The theory states that the needs at the bottom of the hierarchy, such as physiological needs, need for safety and belonging, and need for esteem come before self-actualization can occur. Scholars have things to say about the theory, of course, but it is just a theory and I think in this case it might be useful to keep in mind. If we can provide Tony and Clint the needs they have now while they're in a much more vulnerable state, I think that when they become an adult they may gain a coping skill or two. Or they'll be better off having satisfied the need for care and closeness that they previously hadn't been able to satisfy before."

So they should take care of the kids, treat them like kids, and give them love. Sounded simple enough. "Sounds like a solid plan. We give them the love they need now and they might carry it with them as adults?"

"That sounds about right," Bruce responded, entering the living room again. Clint was sitting on the rug like a kicked puppy and Tony was sitting on the couch like a lost kitten. Obviously neither of them had spoken since Steve and Bruce left the room. Bruce clapped Steve on the soldier, nodding. "Alright, I'll see you later then. I'm working on something right now, so just give me a call if you need me." As he stepped out, Bucky stepped into the room, looking cleaner and much more refreshed.

"Took a break?"

Bucky nodded, running a comb through his chestnut-colored hair, eyes weary as he stared into the mirror but they filled with nothing but adoration when he took in the sight of the two boys. "Banner told me I needed one, so I took a shower to cool off." He met Steve's eyes in a way that said _ask later_. So he'd had a flashback, then, and decided to separate himself from the situation before it escalated. "So! How are my two boys doing?"

Clint kept staring at the rug and Tony seemed mesmerized by his fingers all of a sudden.

"O-kay. Well, what do you two say to a movie?"

Silence. Tony picked at his shirt and pulled at a thread.

"A game?"

He could hear Steve fiddling around in the kitchen again. Clint poked at one of the block towers and watched it go crashing down.

"What about a walk in the park?" At those words, Clint looked up, and in spite of himself, Tony did too. Bucky grinned. "I guess I know where we're going. Steve! Get ready, we're going to the park."

Steve sighed loud enough for the sound to carry to the living room. "Bucky, it rained just this morning and it's almost time for lunch."

"Picnic!" Clint responded, chanting the word as Steve entered the room. "Picnic! Picnic! Picnic!"

Tony smiled toothily and hugged his bear. "Picnic!" he chimed in, and Bucky gave Steve a giant grin. Steve raised his hands in defeat and smiled in spite of himself.

"Alright, grab your coats. I guess we're going to have a picnic today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta-read, in this house we die like men.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve have to go on a mission, leaving the kids with Vision. Thor and Loki come to crash when they see the two little boys crying. Comfort ensues, characters develop, museums are visited, and songs are badly sung.

Tony's day had not been a fun one. Bucky and Steve were on a mission and said they'd be back by tonight but that meant that Tony and Clint were left with Vision for the next few hours. So far, Vision had stood there in a state of exasperated puzzlement when Clint crossed his arms and refused to eat his veggies and hadn't even held either of them in the time he'd been here. Instead, he sat in the same room as them and simply  _watched_  them play and it wasn't the same as when Papa would pick him up and play with him or when Dada would tell Papa off for giving them sweets or when Uncle Bruce would tell him all about science and gave him stickers.

Clint and Tony played quietly.

Clint was still winding down after throwing a tantrum of epic proportions when Papa and Dada had to go. He'd cried and screamed and he'd even thrown a teddy bear at them, and Tony could only watch in horrified wonder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He waited for Papa and Dada to snap and to grab or hit or yell but they didn't, they just sighed and watched and murmured soothing words of apology as they waited for Clint to calm down enough for them to talk.

They held Clint and they gave him a kiss, but the men in suits still escorted them away and that meant that Tony and Clint were  _alone_  with Vision. Throughout the day, he moodily went along with everything in spite of his unhappiness with the situation, mostly because he was scared that Vision wouldn't be as okay with tantrums and also because he didn't want to cry. Crying was not good.

He was okay.

He kept telling himself that. He had to, because if he didn't tell himself he was okay he might start thinking that things  _weren't_  okay because he really wanted his Papa but Papa was gone and then he would cry and he wouldn't be able to stop crying and then Vision would yell at him for crying so he'd cry more. It would leave them "in a pickle" as Jarvis used to say when the situation became messy and complicated.

 _But_   _god_ , he missed Bucky. Which was dumb, because Howard was always busy and Tony knew better than to bother him so he learned that when he was gone he was gone. But Jarvis was there then and he wasn't here now and that made Tony feel even more alone.

"I wish they would come home," Clint said beside Tony and Tony looked up from his coloring book and nodded.

"Me too."

Clint worked on his own coloring book of dogs while Tony colored in pictures of a mummy and cute pumpkins. Tony tried to ignore the pulling at his chest that was coiling tighter and tighter every second when he remembered that Papa had liked the Frankenstein one best. He stood up and began walking around to clear his head. Everything was okay for a while and he was almost calm until his knee crashed against the coffee table and pain shot through his leg like lightning.

Eyes overfilling with tears, Tony fell apart faster than he could call for Papa and he began to sob on the floor.

"Oh dear. Tony are you alright?" Vision asked, moving a hand forward but Tony scooted away and kept crying as Clint moved forward and knelt beside him.

Tony hiccuped, pressing his hands to his face. "I wan' Papa!" he whispered, voice too hoarse and throat too tight for him to scream it like he'd planned.

Vision kept staring at them frantically, not knowing how else to react to a baby sobbing on the floor. "Should I call Doctor Banner to see your injuries? Or is there another person you would like for me to-"

"Papa and Dada!" Clint shouted for Tony, looking at Vision as if he'd personally shoved Tony and kicked Steve and Bucky out of the tower. He turned to Tony, holding him to his chest. "Don't cry, Tony. I'll protect you." Yet as Tony continued crying in his arms, his own eyes began filling with tears until he was crying quietly too.

Clint was scared. He was overwhelmed. And he just wanted  _Dada and Papa_  to come and save the day because Clint was trying to be a big boy and make Tony feel better but Tony was too scared and hurt to understand that. And Clint was maybe just the tiniest bits scared too that Dada and Papa were gone.

If Vision had hair, he'd be pulling it out when Tony crying became  _two_  children crying. "Um, children-"

"Jarvis! Will you please tell the Captain that my brother and I will be staying here for the timebe-" Thor's booming jovial voice cut off when he saw the pitiful scene playing out in the living room, where Tony was sobbing as Clint held him close and cried too. Loki stood beside him, frowning at the scene. "Anthony, Clint! Why are you crying?"

Vision looked at Thor like the befuddled AI that he was at core as if pleading for help. "Tony crashed into the coffee table and began crying and then Clint began to cry as well. I believe they want Steve and Bucky and they refuse to accept my comfort or assistance."

"Ah, they want their daddies, that's sensible," Thor remarked, making faces at them as he crouched in front of them. Clint and Tony looked at him wariliy. "Do not weep. If you keep on your crying then a draugr will come and sweep you away to a lair where he will surely eat you slowl-" Tony and Clint's eyes widened marginally as they listened before they both started crying louder. Thor had the gall to look surprised that he'd only made things worse instead of better. His indelicate nature had never been more pronounced as it was in that second and for a moment, he seemed to panic. "Wait, now, that usually worked with us as kids. Don't cry! Loki! Fix this."

Before any of them knew what was happening, Loki muttered a sharp insult towards both men, sighed, crossed the room, and scooped Tony up from the floor. "You are both absolutely helpless when it comes to children," he snapped at them, bouncing Tony in his arms a bit to soothe him. Thor, taking his brother's example, lifted Clint and began to sway him in the way he remembered his own mother doing when he was a child.

"It's okay, youngling, there is no need for tears. It will be okay now- if it isn't, then I will  _make_  it so and the entire world will feel my wrath for bringing you harm. You are safe. I will not harm you and nobody would dare to, child, you are okay. You need not cry," Loki murmured in Tony's ear over and over until the little one rested his head against Loki's chest. He eased the pain away with his seidr and added just a tiny push to make him sleepier so that he could wake up refreshed and less upset.

Thor took another route and told Clint of their ridiculous adventures and made him laugh instead. "-and that is the story of how I once had to wear a wedding dress and fake-marry a Jotun to get my beloved mjolnir back. Loki, my brother who now consoles your brother, was my bridesmaid. He made a very fine lady, but he used magic so technically I was the prettier of the two of us because he cheated."

Vision watched Loki with a curious eye, smiling when Tony yawned and wrapped an arm around Loki's neck subconsciously. "You are quite good with children, if I may say so. He's been upset all day and I haven't been able to comfort him, but you have. Quickly. It's impressive."

Loki turned to him, eyeing him before he nodded, his eyes gleaming with a hint of sadness. "Yes, I should think so. I was a mother- and a father- long ago."

Thor was silent when Loki placed Tony down on the couch, fast asleep, and covered him in blankets. Thor released Clint to go and play with his trucks, still facing his brother who stared at Tony with the longing of a childless parent shining in his eyes. Of a parent stripped of his children the same way that lovers were torn from each other during wars- violently and carelessly, and no amount of wheedling and begging could change the minds of the steel-hearted soldiers who were ordered to take them. "Your children- Have you had contact with them since…" his voice trailed off and Loki shook his head.

"Only Fenrir, though it was obvious that he didn't remember me. Either that or he was far too deep into the pits of madness and despair for me to reach through to him. Narvi and Vali…" Loki swallowed, remembering his cherished son Narvi- who reminded him so much of himself but  _better_ \- being hauled away from his grasp when the people had learned of their existence and Odin ordered to have them sent away. "They were executed."

Loki looked at Clint playing with an action figure, smiling as he silently moved them. "You handled that well, Thor. I'm surprised. Perhaps one day you'll do well with an heir," he commented and Thor laughed, shaking his head.

"Nay, those days are still far ahead of me. I'm still trying to fix everything Hela broke and I'm focused on my duties as a king at the moment," Thor responded. Loki gave him a small bittersweet smile. "I don't know how I could manage if I had a little one depending on me at the moment. It would be hectic. I'd prefer to be a father when I'm certain that I could devote all my time to them."

"That sounds like a good plan," Loki said, sitting down and remembering the warmth of a body pressed against his own, Narvi cooing as he looked up at Loki with nothing but adoration in his green eyes that was the color of the bottom of the ocean. He remembered Vali, with his bright eyes and his laughter and his sharp wit, and Narvi's innocence and his naivete and his trust that was too easily acquired and too hard to lose. And Fenrir with his eagerness to please and his belief that everyone was good and his horror when he learned of what others thought of him. And Loki had held him close and murmured sweet nothings and tried to pretend that it wasn't a direct mirror of a teenaged version of him and Odin fighting over the fact that Loki has monster blood coursing through him while his brother did not.

( _Why, why, why_ , Fenrir had asked and asked Loki.  _Why am I like this? Why are Narvi and Vali not? Why am I a beast and they are normal? Why have I been cursed?_  And Loki would shake his head and press a kiss to Fenrir's head and wish for nothing more than to be able to ease the pain from his son's heart. Fenrir had been the first to be taken, led away to be bound and caged like a mutt without sentience, like a beast that didn't feel every blow they gave with their fists and words. It was then, several eternities ago, standing there weeping in front of the bars like a lost child, that Loki swore vengeance on Asgard.)

Thor didn't miss the look in his brother's eyes, and he sighed and took a seat beside his brother, wrapping an arm around him. "I'm sorry for your loss, brother. It was wrong of me to stand by and not come to your aid when they took my nephews from you. Truly, it is one of my greatest regrets."

Loki snorted then, rolling his eyes. "Did my therapist speak with you? How wonderful. Next we'll be doing family therapy and you'll be crying into a teddy bear like the disgrace you are." And yet his eyes twinkled in that way of his as he regarded his dolt of a brother he so loved. Thor merely grinned at him. "You're an idiot."

"So you've told me many times before. And you," said he, pressing a finger to Loki's chest, "are a scawny little bore."

\---  
Loki stayed and decided to spend the day caring after the two little ones, though of course only because they would die if they were left in the care of his bumbling moron of a brother and the red creature, proven by the way they'd interacted with two frightened and bawling babes earlier. So, Loki stayed merely because Stark was useful and the Hawk was good at what he did as an adult. And because the spellwork used on the two of them was complex enough that it was a challenge even for Loki, who was bored enough to try and unravel it.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Tony's mournful eyes reflected Fenrir's in the later days and Clint's wit could match Vali's and they were the same age as Narvi when he had been taken.

He sat on the floor across from Clint who made a plethora of creative movements for his airplane and Loki twirled his fingers and made it actually fly, savoring the look of delight on Clint's face.

"Magic!" he said, grinning as he reached for it but it merely flew higher and out of his reach. Clint giggled, standing, chasing after it as Tony sat on the floor and played pirates- he looked like the most nervous pirate to ever live- with Thor. Loki hoped that the sword in Tony's hand was not genuine silver. "Magic plane!"

They played for most of the day, with Vision preparing food, Thor entertaining them and Loki making sure that neither child could feel the absence of their makeshift parental figures. Tony in particular needed to be consoled and cared after more but he was so hesitant to be held or touched that Loki felt the vague desire to find out  _why_. Why he was so quiet and afraid of being touched and letting himself take up space, always trying to make himself smaller and invisible while Clint loved the spotlight. It felt unnatural for a child to sit meekly in one corner unless called or included in the activity (verbally,  _clearly_  included). If Loki didn't keep seeing a shadow of himself, he doubted he would have remembered that there was even a child outside of Clint, who took up the space with his energy and claimed the ground he walked on as his.

And that was not okay.

There were few things in the world that Loki truly cared about and children were definitely one of them. They were often so trickstery in nature and held a certain innocent mischief in them that he couldn't help but be drawn to them. And some needed more protecting that others.

As he ate his dinner he couldn't help but frown at the children when they couldn't see, trying to unravel the spell but not finding enough of a trace to grab onto so he could do so. It was baffling. He would need to consult with the Grandmaster about the matter, if he had any advice about the situation, and if he would be able to help Loki locate Mimir. Currently, it seemed like Mimir would be the only hope for the children to grow back into the adults they were before being cursed.

"Anthony, are you finished?" asked Thor, and Tony nodded his head. Loki smiled at him, running a hand through the soft curls on his head before he lifted the child from the highchair and placed him on the floor so he could wander about on his own. Tony sat down on the floor several feet away from them, picking up the toy car left there from earlier and pushing it around.

Clint looked at Loki curiously. "Are you a witch?" he asked and Thor coughed to conceal his laughter, but the shaking shoulders gave him away.

"No, I am not a witch, contrary to what people say. I am a powerful sorcerer, the most powerful in the world," Loki responded, tilting his chin up and staring down at his brother. "Unlike others, I can do much more than throw hammers and create sparks."

Thor's smile turned into a glower, but Clint spoke before Thor could begin with his retort. "Can you teach me?"

Loki felt something in him ache and crackle at the question, expanding and then shattering before it was gone and he was left hollow inside, heart beating a tuneless song.

It was so innocent a question but for so many years, seidr had been something to look down upon, a thought ingrained in him by Odin as he grew up beside the strongest warriors. Asgardians faced their challenges head-on, they fought with their fists and remained standing their ground as the battle commenced. But Loki could never hope to win a fight that way with his build so he found ways to make up for the strength he lacked. He used seidr and he used illusions and he used his spells to try and even out the playing field, but the Asgardians thought it was un-Asgardian and a display of cowardice rather than intelligence, treachery rather than versatility.

There was silence for a few seconds and Tony looked up. "Me too?" he asked meekly, and Loki caught himself and snapped out of his surprised daze, nodding.

"Of course, I can try to teach the two of you, but you must be aware that you're both very young. It took me several hundred years to learn the basics from my mother. If you don't manage to learn it right away, that's okay. Okay?"

(Narvi nodded, grinning as he sat on Loki's lap, playing with his mother's hair as he practically  _bounced_  with excitement. A mere few months later Narvi could make colored mist flow from his fingers, and Loki smiled wider than ever before, lifting him and pressing him to her chest. "One day you will become even more powerful than me, Narvi. You will surpass me one day, my love.")

"That's okay with me!" Clint said with a bright-eyed grin that could melt any type of steel with how much warmth they held within them.

Tony nodded. "Me too, please?"

And left with no other choice, Loki sat them on the sofa and began teaching them the basics of magic, teaching them the principles behind seidr and showing them how to let the magic ebb and flow like the push and pull of the waves. "It is like the water and the wind," Loki said, and the two boys hardly blinked or moved as they listened to him intently, taking it all in. "You must have grace and move with the flow of the water, and you must be flexible and dynamic so you can adapt your magic to your situation. You don't want a giant duck in the middle of a battle, and you don't want to summon a wolf when you're in your bedroom."

Clint giggled, imagining a giant duck fighting soldiers and a wolf sleeping in a hotel room and wearing a bright pink robe.

"Hold your hands out and feel the air crackle against the skin of your left hand, feel the power humming in the earth, the energy in the room. Imagine all of those things entering your fingertips, moving up your arm, spreading through your chest, and then exiting through your right hand. Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing," Loki lectured, and when they both obeyed him immediately, he watched. Clint had the will and passion to learn, not to mention the agility and both raw and internal strength to wield seidr, and Tony had the silence and the stillness that would help him  _hear_  the whispers of the universe so that he could wield it without burning like a phoenix.

If Loki were given time to spend teaching them, they would go far, yet he was well aware that the universe was rarely so allowing or merciful.

"Chin up, Anthony," Loki said, tilting Tony's chin up with a finger.

( _Chin up, Loki_ , Mother had tutted gently, teaching him to wield his own power. As Thor trained on the battlefield alongside Odin, Loki sat at her knee and learned the eloquence of a Vanir-born politician and the gentle grace of a courtier. She taught him how to say things without saying it forthright, how to use the art of charm and glib to get what he needed, how to smile in the face of provocation while the Asgardians would charge and spit and growl to get their way.)

Loki watched them with a smile on his face, doing what he'd asked them to do himself and opening his eyes to see the yellow energy flowing around his fingers. It was one of the first things he'd learned to do as a child and he met Thor's nostalgic smile with a blank expression to keep from mirroring it on his own. He focused again on the children to ignore the pull at his heart he refused to admit existed when he remembered the gentle hands of his mother guiding his; Tony and Clint were staring at him in awe, and Clint clapped his hands.

"That's amazing!" Clint said, moving forward to run his fingers through the light. Tony did the same thing, giggling when the light turned thick around his finger like slime. "Can you show me any other things, Uncle Loki? Can you make a- a shadow puppet show?"

 _Uncle_  Loki?

"Why, of course, I'm offended you even asked," Loki said, focusing his energy on making two little boy characters on the wall, one with blond locks of hair and the other with ebony. Thor leaned back against the couch, smiling at the show. They seemed to be walking, with the dark-haired boy reading and the blond-haired boy playing with a stick. "Ah! Fear me! I am Thor, the god of wooden sticks and hideous capes! Tremble where you stand!" Loki said, using his shape-shifting powers to replicate Thor's voice as a child- albeit much higher.

"Thor, it's you," Tony whispered with a small smile at Thor, who only ruffled his hair, not really noticing the way Tony squirmed beneath his hand.

The dark-haired boy, that one could only assume was Loki himself, looked at his brother with a frown. "Thor, do you think it is wise to shout your name out loud every time we leave the palace? There could be enemies around waiting to take on the challenge."

"Ha!" Thor cried incredulously, "I doubt there is anyone brave enough to face off against me, son of Odin and prince of Asgard."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Sif punched you in the face yesterday, brother dear. If an ordinary Asgardian citizen can find the courage it takes to throw a punch at the prince, then I do not doubt the wild and mindless beasts within this forest will not hesitate to tear you to shreds."

"You underestimate how intimidating I am," Thor responded, and they kept walking in peaceful silence for a few seconds before Thor tripped on his cape and face-planted onto the dirt. With a groan, he stood and wiped off his dirty hands on his trousers before he kept on trudging on through the forest with Loki beside him, still gracefully reading his book.

The real Thor frowned and looked over at the real Loki who was grinning at the screen. "That is not what happened! I did not fall flat on my face, I merely stumbled before I kept marching on honorably and with dignity," he cried, words being heard by absolutely nobody, Clint and Tony giggling at the silliness of the events.

As little Thor and Loki kept trudging on, a bright light stopped them, and a man stood before them with a stern frown. "Loki. Thor. What are you doing, exploring the forest unaccompanied by an adult? Many formidable beasts lay beyond this point. Return now and you will have my vow of silence about your escape from your lessons," Heimdall told them, frowning at the two miscreants. "You two are much too young to be alone, not to mention helpless against any potential attackers."

"I am sorry, Heimdall, truly," Loki began, trying to placate him but Thor seemed to bristle at the words.

"I am not!" Thor said with a fierce glower on his 8 year old face.

Tony inched closer to the "screen", eyes wide. "Oh no," he whispered under his breath. Clint looked up at the real Thor as if he were judging whether or not Thor was really that big of an idiot to challenge someone who'd just magically popped up in front of them without breaking a sweat. Making the magic man angry didn't seem like something anyone with self preservation would do.

"Thor, shut your-" Loki began, trying to defuse the situation with all his 4 year old might. He let out a breath, turning back to Heimdall. "Thank you for your mercy, we will be taking your offer."

"No we  _won't_  ," Thor said to Loki in a low voice, clenching his fists and leaning forward, sparks surrounding his arms as he grew upset. "We came here to hunt game so we could prove to father that we are strong enough to join the legion. We cannot go home without an achievement to show that we are strong and brave enough- though I suppose you would understand nothing of honor and bravery, _nithing_. When I am King-"

"Then fight  _me_  and we will see which of us is more worthy," Loki snapped back, his own eyes flaring with anger, and the two boys lunged at one another, wrestling in the dirt. It was, quite simply, a comical scene to watch the two little boys trying (and failing) to fight, mostly because they were so uncoordinated and filled with all the righteous fury of a child whose pride had been wounded. Within five minutes some soldiers came to escort them back to the palace, where they managed to give them the slip and explore the hidden corridors of the palace instead, fight seemingly forgotten.

It played out much like an adventure film that Tony had seen before with Jarvis. Loki and Thor explored the dungeons, found a giant serpent, met a lady that gave them golden apples, and they fought bravely against a black puppy named something like Skull. By the end of the entire "film", Clint had relocated to sit on Thor's lap before he fell asleep and Tony blinked blearily at the screen, trying hard to stay awake in spite of his obvious sleepiness. He was pressed against Loki, a pacifier in his mouth, and he looked so fragile and breakable that Loki almost didn't want to move in spite of the awkward position he was in with Tony pressed firmly against his injured ribs.

Which he'd injured in a very non-violent way, which was surprising in and of itself. It was another long night on Sakaar with many drinks and fights and dancing; he'd gotten a bit carried away by the elan of the people and some goliath of a man slammed against him as he collapsed from drinking more than he was fit to handle.

It had all happened before Loki could react and he fell ass-first on the floor, pain in his side and a drunk idiot asleep in the middle of the dancefloor. Loki, drunk out of his mind on both the substances and the atmosphere of the room, had laughed along with the crowd at the time but now that he was awake and feeling the pain of the bruised ribs it was no laughing matter at all.

"Thor," Loki called and Thor faced him with a soft and rather cloying look in his eyes. Instead of sneering like he initially thought of doing, Loki just gave him a small smile. "Pick him up, I'll take care of Clint."

"Should we not give them baths?" Thor asked, lifting Tony into his arms and smiling at him when he didn't fuss or squirm about like he had before.

Loki shook his head. "I think they could have a bath tomorrow morning. They're both quite tired and to try and bathe them now would be asking for a night-long tantrum," Loki replied, picking up the sleeping toddler into his arms, swaying Clint lightly as he walked.

Thor looked over at his brother as Loki swayed and smiled down at Clint who nestled closer still to his chest. "They are precious, are they not?" Thor asked, rocking his arms. "So free of worry and not burdened yet by the pains of life. I would kill to be this age once more."

Loki looked up at those words. "Kill? You need only ask. And sacrifice to me one of your greatest loves, but that's beside the point. If you wish for it, I can make it happen. Do not forget that you are standing in the presence of the greatest sorcerer in the nine realms, brother."

Thor rolled his eyes at his brother's words. "Such dramatics," he muttered, "I meant to be this age once more with you. When we were children, we were happy. Or happier than we are now, anyway. We didn't need to worry about being a prince or about staying alive. All we knew was how to cause mischief and have fun and if anything happened, Mother and Father would come along to ease away our pain and protect us from the dangers we faced."

Loki stared at him for a few moments, Thor's focus being on the boy in his arms, but the words were on Loki's tongue, demanding to be said even if he knew he couldn't say them. Because if he said them, that meant admitting things he wasn't quite ready to admit, like the fact that he was perhaps not as far gone as he'd believed and he'd made a mistake and he didn't actually  _want_  to be alone anymore now that he'd been granted his right to cut everyone out. He wasn't ready to say them, but the words on his traitorous tongue were there, mocking and taunting him.

Luckily, the moment to speak passed, and the doors cracked open as Bucky and Steve walked in, dirty and coming down from the high of a mission. They both paused at the sight of Loki carrying one of the children and seemed to consider their options as they walked towards him. "I come in peace," Loki told them, prepared to either fight or flee depending on if they'd attack first. When Clint opened his eyes briefly before wrapping his arms around Loki's neck and going back to sleep though, they seemed to come to a conclusion and their shoulders relaxed.

"Loki," Steve said, going for a kind and friendly tone. "I didn't know you had a parental bone in you."

Thor, behind Loki, shook his head vehemently, eyes wide.

"Of course, it looks like I was proven pleasantly wrong!" Steve quickly amended at the glare he received that he knew now to be "one step away from trying to murder someone", or as Bucky called it, "Loki's bitchface". At his words, the tension from Loki's shoulders eased away and Steve could not have been gladder for that.

Thor breathed a sigh of relief. "He is a parent, actually. Or, more correctly,  _was_  a parent. Had 3 children, as far as I know. Narvi, Vali and Fenrir."

Steve looked at Loki curiously, trying to imagine a non-murderous Loki tending to three children. Steve could hardly cope with two. Maybe that was why Loki had gone a bit crazy. Heavens knew that sometimes Steve wanted to just lay down and scream and cry himself when one of the two were having tantrums or woke up all hours of the night. "Sounds exhausting, how did you manage?"

Loki laughed. "A mother knows her children best."

"Mother?" Bucky asked, looking at them as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water and starting drinking like a man that'd been in the desert for years.

"Yeah, Loki was a mother of two, father of one," Thor explained as he handed Tony over to Steve and plopped down on the couch. "That might be hard for Midgardians to comprehend, but as a Jotunn, Loki can switch between male and female anatomy easily."

"Sounds like a useful trait," Bucky said as he walked back into the living room with a plate of cold but tolerable pizza. "If a spy or assassin had that ability, it's over for everyone else. I'd have never been caught. Can you imagine?"

"Don't want to," Steve said with a small smile and Bucky rolled his eyes before sitting down beside him on the sofa. "Anyways, Thor, you said was? Loki  _was_  a parent? Past tense?"

There was a moment of tense silence and Thor looked at Loki, waiting for an approval from him before sharing the private details of his life. When Loki nodded and turned away, rocking Clint in his arms, Thor answered. "He had three children, as I said before, but one of them, Fenrir, was not… He could turn into a wolf; when he was young he could control it but as he grew older… In an emotional state, he was unable to control it and turned into a raging beast.  _At times_ , of course, for he was also intelligent and kind at heart and perhaps a bit naive about the cruelty of others when he was in his human form. But the seers said that he would one day be an enemy when Ragnarok came due to his unstable nature and he'd leave the universe in darkness. Seeing as no man or woman could slay him, father ordered for the warriors to bind him in unbreakable chains instead and leave him deserted on an island for all of eternity."

"Ripped from my arms," Loki said with splinters in his voice, not facing them, his frame sillhouetted by the light. Steve couldn't help but wonder if this had anything to do with the rage he felt towards his family, if they had let this happen without standing up for him. If it were Steve in his shoes, Steve knew that he would have done the same thing and sworn to avenge his child no matter the cost or consequence.

"As for Narvi and Vali… they were both killed early to prevent them from turning into a beast as well, for father believed that Loki was cursed to bear beastly offspring," Thor finished and Loki visibly swallowed at the words, wincing. "Of course, this wasn't… in this cycle of life, it was in the… last one, was it? Or second to last?"

"Second to last," Loki corrected, finally turning, still cradling Clint to his chest.

Bucky frowned. "Cycle of life? What, like reincarnations or…?"

Thor nodded. "In a way, I suppose, yes. For us, life is a cycle which ends when Ragnarok comes, and most of the time the lives remain the same but small details are altered, but in the end it is often the same. After Ragnarok- the end of times- everything starts over once again and the same people live similar lives, except some things change and some things remain the same. A thief may be a famous painter in another cycle, a person may be rich or poor, they might die sooner than the last time or be born sooner. In this cycle, however, Ragnarok was vastly different than the ones that came before, though I doubt it is the first time this happened. Everything has already happened at least once. This cycle may have an extended Ragnarok or perhaps two Ragnaroks or a Ragnarok averted type of situation and we all die natural deaths before everything restarts.

"Oh, and there is also the fact that Loki did not bear any children this time for he is far too young still, so that is another thing that is different with this cycle."

"Young?" Steve asked, looking at Loki over. "Isn't he more than a thousand years old? I wouldn't call that young, and that's coming from a hundred year old man."

Loki chuckled, shaking his head at Steve's words. "You would be an infant for the Asgardians. I am the human equivalent of 18 years old, so yes, fairly young I would think. Thor is roughly 22 years old."

 _What?_  Steve thought, looking them both over and adjusting his mental image of the two Asgardians. Jesus Christ. One teenager and one young adult. No wonder they were both so childish and could have a tantrum that lasted decades- they were just teenagers that had literally millions of years ahead of them. " _Oh my god_."

"Thank you, I'm flattered," Loki said with a smirk, handing Clint over to Bucky, who gaped at him like a fish out of water without trying to be subtle about it in the slightest.

\---

Loki, it turns out, was not that bad when he wasn't intentionally trying to put on an act of melodrama to hide the weakness behind his eyes. Now that Steve and Bucky knew he was a literal teenager, it made it a lot easier to navigate around him and try to see past his " _you don't understand me!"_ 's and his  _"you are not my superior!"_ 's and  _"I could smite you on the spot!"_ 's.

In spite of his tendency to be volatile though, nothing could defuse the situation quite like Clint and Tony tugging on his sleeve or needing his attention. And if Thor used this to their advantage, then Steve certainly wasn't about to protest his choice.

"Loki?" Bucky yelled- called, he mentally corrected himself because he was definitely calm right now and not on the verge of throwing hands with a teenaged god- into Loki's designated bedroom as he walked in to see Loki trying to figure out the cell phone that Thor had gotten him, clumsily swiping and poking at it. A familiar sound reached Bucky's ears and he scowled.

Tweeting. Of course that's what Loki had been doing this entire time.

"Loki, for goodness' sake, Steve has been calling you for the last half hour. Come on."

A hum.

" _Loki_."

Loki finally looked up as if seeing Bucky for the first time before he looked back down at the phone in his hands. "Yes, yes, I'll be there in a minute."

Bucky growled and stomped out of the room before he laid his hands on the little shit and got into hot water with Thor. Steve looked at him when he entered, helping Clint into a sweater as Tony struggled to put on his boots beside him. "Where is he? We have to go soon. What's he so busy doing anyway?"

"He's been doing exactly what he's been doing since Thor gave him that fu- that phone," Bucky quickly corrected when he saw Clint look up at him with his eyes doing that thing they've been doing recently when he heard a new word he liked. When he found a new word he liked, he repeated it non-stop, so Bucky and Steve have been extra careful not to swear in front of him or Tony. "If he doesn't want to go, then we can leave him. It's obvious he doesn't care either way anyway." Yet Steve gave Bucky that look of disapproval, like Bucky had just suggested they leave an injured dog on the road and not do anything about it. As usual.

Since finding out more about Loki's story and finding out how he was treated like the misfit on Asgard, Steve had become oddly protective of the mischievous godling. And when they found out about the tortures that Loki endured to get him to submit to the will of Thanos, Steve was absolutely sold and Bucky knew exactly why.

Brainwashed.

("Ready to comply," he said to the unfamiliar faces of his handlers as they put weapons into his hands and a mask on his face.)

("I yield," Loki said, stilling as the soldiers held his shoulders still and the man in front of him pressed the tip of the needle through his lips and began sewing them shut to keep him silent and pliant.)

Broken in the worst of ways and then put back together into something he didn't want to be.  
  
(Men, women, children, all of their eyes devoid of life, ended by the bullet that Bucky himself had fired. He knew there was no other choice but to submit.)

(The Other found Loki when he floated through space and he placed a scepter in Loki's hands and told him his mission that he had no choice but to accept.)

Unwanted.

("Is it smart to keep  _him_  here? What if he snaps again?")

Jaded and hurt and ready to try and run as fast as possible away from anything that reminded him of steel tables and cold, callous eyes.

(Bucky had spent years running just because he was afraid of his own memories catching up with him, afraid of the possibility of his mind turning of him once again. Zemo had reminded him that his mind, although his own, was not completely free of the strings that could still leave him nothing more than a puppet to whoever knew how to pull them just right.)

("Sakaar is a place for all lost and unloved things," Thor explained to them once, explaining why Loki preferred being there instead of on Midgard or any place else. "The Grandmaster gives him the affection and attention he has so desperately craved for years and the people respect him as their equal. He needs not hide his flaws on Sakaar, for he is among the other broken beings who landed there because the universe decided they were in need of a home Sakaar could give them.")

Bucky understood, he really did, and in a way it was cathartic for him as well to try and deal with someone who felt things similar to what he'd endured at the hands of HYDRA. He understood that Steve was doing this because he wanted to make sure that Loki could be saved in the same way that Bucky had been. He knew that Steve looked at Loki's sorrowful eyes after Loki came home from a session of emotional rehabilitation and saw Bucky's sometimes, back when they were still trying to fix Bucky's brain and all he did was scream for the first few days because the memories were too much.

Finally- fucking finally- Loki walked into the room and stood there for a second before he knelt and helped Tony with his boots. "Where exactly are we going again?"

"The museum, Loki. We've been talking about this outing for a week and you agreed you'd go," Steve answered with a sigh. "We have to drive there. Is that alright by you?"

Loki shrugged indifferently. So that was settled. He'd be coming. Great.

\---

All in all, the trip out could have been worse.

Tony seemed to love seeing the different exhibits, but Clint was a bit bored by all the things so they kept having to move before Tony was truly satisifed with the information he'd learned about each thing. Personally, Bucky agreed with Clint. He didn't really care about how the phone evolved because he was otherwise preoccupied at the time of the invention of most phone types; all he had to know was how the current ones worked. But Loki seemed enthralled by everything, listening with rapt attention to the tour guide and taking everything in as he tried to understand technology he'd never even seen before on Asgard.

Lunch went uneventfully. Clint made friends with a girl that he met in the airplane part of the museum and he sat with her the entire time while Tony talked with the tour guide and asked a million questions. The kind lad answered every one of them to the best of his abilities, giving him a lollipop for being a keen and eager student. The girl that Clint had made friends with gave him half a sandwich before waving goodbye and leaving with her family.

They finished up with the museum and Steve decided they should go to the park and have a bit of fun before heading home. Clint also looked like he was in dire need of burning off some energy before he exploded, so they all decided it was for the best. Loki settled down under the tree and laid down, staring at the sky like he was homesick for a different world, hungering for his home that rested far from the Earth. Steve went over to the bench and began sketching everyone to pass the time. Bucky sat on the abandoned swings, people-watching.

"My castle," Tony said, building a sand castle with ease. "It's nice. People always happy inside of it. No angry people."

Clint nodded and worked on his own sand castle. "Mine is for kids with no parents, so nobody tells them what to do."

"Like an orphanage, but no adults?" Tony asked and Clint nodded seriously. "Howard said he'd give me to one. I was bad, he said."

Clint made a bridge so that nobody could come in without the people in the castle approving. "Barney and I were about to go to a different one before I woke up 'ere. I like it with Dada and Papa. They're nicer than my dad."

"Did he yell a lot?"

"Yeah. Did yours hit?"

"If he was drunk. Sometimes if not. Mostly loud and mean words." Tony added rocks around the border, carefully spreading them out so that no one place was left unprotected and unguarded at any time. If bad people got in, good people would get hurt. That was not good.

Clint gave him a onceover then, squinting at Tony. "I'll protect you."

"You will?" Tony asked, giving him a look that was both disbelieving but hopeful even though the back of his mind told him he was being a complete idiot for even thinking someone would want to protect someone like him. He didn't know why but he just  _felt_  like he wasn't supposed to trust other people because when he began to trust them the flashlight in his chest would start to ache in a way he didn't really understand.

(Sometimes, in dreams long forgotten, he dreamed about water in his lungs and seeing his vision painted with red, his chest- different than his chest now but he knew it was his, somehow, in a way he couldn't explain- a canvas of blood and covered in wounds he never remembered receiving. Sometimes he dreamed about cold air in his lungs and concrete beneath his back and pain exploding through his chest and the flashlight flickering out as the snow fell somewhere beyond him, unseen but not forgotten by his mind for some reason. He knew it was snowing even if he couldn't see it just as he knew that there was nobody coming to save him.)

(And sometimes he remembered grabbing a hand that had already been used to hurt him. The unnamed man was going to fall into an abyss of darkness, but he didn't want salvation like Tony thought- he wanted to take Tony down with him. In those dreams, Tony fell and never stopped falling, waking up with a shout and opening his eyes to a dark room.)

Clint looked at him and nodded. "Yeah, of course. I'm older than you, runt, that means it's my job. I'm your big brother. It's my big brotherly duties to make sure nobody can kick your ass except me."

(Clint remembered Barney clearer than he remembered anything else. His entire life, he was following him around and hiding behind him when the world began to turn sharp and cold. It was Barney who cleaned him up and patched up his cuts and bruises and taught him how to treat his own wounds for the day when he was gone and couldn't make everything right for Clint anymore. Barney taught him how to evade the questions of teachers and pastors and other adults with their prying eyes when they saw the bruises and blackeyes from dad's fists. Nobody could beat Barney up, and he taught Clint how to fight like he did so he could never lose.)

Tony frowned at him, but Clint only grinned wider. "Barney used to tell me that, and it was so cool when he said it. Did I sound cool?"

(Clint remembered Barney kicking him to the ground and pounding on him and he was desperately trying to give as good as he got when Barney grabbed his face and pulled him close, making sure that Clint would be able to understand every word he said. It was then, with the hard ground of the shed digging into Clint's back and his mouth filled with his own blood that Barney told him, "you make everything something you can hit with, and then you hit them until they stop". It was then that Clint learned how to survive and understood the lesson that Barney was trying to teach him. "Dad's bigger than me, I can't beat him," he'd told Barney, and Barney pulled him from the ground. "Then we outlast him. Only a little while longer, then we're leaving. You just need to know how to keep from being pounded to the ground. You did good, runt. You're learning.")

"Yeah. I think it sounded cool," Tony responded and Clint beamed at the compliment.

Clint took a stick and placed it on the top of the castle to show that it was his castle and he was the king of it. Tony watched Clint and thought for a second before he said, "I'll protect you too."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

They flashed each other a smile, and both of them looked up when they saw Steve standing there, bags in hand. "Come on, time to go home. Dinner and movie when he get home, and then it's a bath and sleep for the two of you." The two toddlers followed without complaint, the entire car ride home passing in an easy mood,  _Holding Out For a Hero_  playing through the speakers with Steve singing along quite loudly.

Bucky listened with a sappy smile on his face, looking out of the window to hide the soft look in his eyes. Some days, he forgot how rigid the dichotomy between Steve Rogers and Captain America really was, how starkly different those two were in their natural state. Captain America was calculating, righteous, all-or-nothing, heroic, never slept when injustice was happening somewhere on the globe, could smell evil from a mile away.

Steve Rogers was an impulsive, sassy little shit that never knew when to accept that he had the losing hand and would rather take an ass kicking than back down from a fight simply because he was too strong-willed (he was stupid, basically) for his own good and also because he seemed to enjoy having his ass kicked in every alley way that existed just so Bucky could come and have a mini heart attack every time before he saved the day.

Clint and Tony were in the back seat, playing with their toys and talking endlessly about some cartoon character they'd been obsessed with recently.

Moments like this reminded Bucky exactly why he was in love with the giant dork, and moreover, why he loved the little family they'd built for themselves. With two de-aged amnesiac kids, two super-soldiers, an overly optimistic god of thunder, a sulky and sarcastic god of mischief, a spy with great ballet skills, a man in a bird suit, a scientist with anger issues and a red robot man, what could go wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> Stay posted. More coming up.
> 
> (Not beta read, in this house we die like men.)


End file.
